Ambiguity
by chibiaries
Summary: He smiled mockingly and it cut her pride like a knife. TRxHG.
1. Escape

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or the books J.K. Rowling wrote or Scholastics or anything. All I have in the world is this sorry excuse for a plot/story. I'm open to constructive criticism too.

XxXxX

Ch.1: Escape

Time was running out.

It had seemed so simple when Harry reviewed the Plan that morning at Grimmauld's Place over a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs.

Infiltrate the Ministry. Steal Umbridge's locket, said locket being Voldemort's Horucrux. Get out as quickly and stealthy as possible.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Of course, Hermione thought wryly, Harry being Harry had to be the one to add lead-a-mass-breakout-of-wrongfully-arrested-muggleborn-witches-and-wizards-from-right-under-the-noses-of-Death Eaters-(and Umbridge)-masquerading-as-Ministry-employees to their agenda.

Not that she was complaining of course, but it really wreaked havoc on the "sneak out without being noticed" part of the Plan.

She nervously fidgeted as the last of the prisoners disappeared into the green flames of the fireplaces, thinking that it wouldn't have hurt if they each happened to have a gobletful of Felix Felicis that morning. With the kind of odds they were up against, she would have given anything for even a sip of that that, with all three of them on the run from the most evil wizard the magical world had ever seen and his deranged minions, they would have needed enough to fill the giant-squid-dwelling lake.

She saw one of the men garbed in the black that was blocking the fireplaces earlier stare suspiciously at Harry and Ron, and it didn't take her long to figure out why.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Runcorn was _shrinking _and Cattermole had started sprouting carrot-red hair.

If Harry Potter, the number one Undesirable was trapped in the Ministry of Magic controlled by Voldemort….this was very, very bad.

_Think, Hermione, think! We need a diversion. You weren't called a know-it-all all those years at school for nothing._

To her horror, as the said man walked threateningly towards them, wand drawn, she saw Umbridge waddle out of the lift, several associates trailing behind her, screeching, "Don't let the criminals escape! Catch them!"

Throwing caution to the winds, Hermione streaked past the fireplaces, pointing wildly and screaming, "I saw him! Harry Potter!"

At these words, the Atrium was thrown into chaos. A rumbling started behind her as a mob of wizards and witches followed her, all eager to get the reward for the capture of Undesirable Number One.

She saw the shock on Harry's face, heard Ron groan, "Hermione!", before they vanished from sight. Hopefully, they managed to Disapparate back to Grimmauld's place without being tailed.

Hermione heard the pounding footsteps behind her and smiled grimly. They had taken the bait. Harry and Ron were safe from Voldemort's clutches for at least another day. The excitement and confusion emanating from the mob noticeably grew as they pursued her.

'What's going on?"

"Malfada's said she's seen Potter!"

"But…that's not Malfada! _Stupefy_!"

Hermione felt herself growing taller, felt the familiar weight of her chestnut brown hair as it curled past her shoulders, replacing the gray tufts of an aging witch. She swerved as several red jets of light cracked the marble floor of the Atrium, heard the cries of fury of the employees who missed. Panting hard, she ran into one of the empty lifts that clanged its golden grilles satisfyingly in the faces of enraged Ministry workers.

Once the grille opened, she sprinted out, hoping that there were alternative exits in the innards of the Ministry. She was shocked when she heard the familiar 'crack' of Apparation as twenty or so red-faced wizards stood in the direction that she was running. She doubled back and sprinted faster, as she heard them chasing her, shouting more hexes that shot colorful beams of light dangerously close past her face.

_Please, please let there be an exit at the end of this hallway._

Crashing through an eerily familiar black door, she whirled around and locked it with a muttered, "_Colloportus_!" and leaned on it to catch her breath.

"Dammit, she's gotten into the Department of Mysteries!"

"Well, open the door, you fool! _Alohomora_! _Alohomora_!"

Feeling the first prickle of fear, she stepped back from the door and jogged slowly in the darkness that was only broken by the flickering of blue flames on the various candles. Her eyes roved the spinning wall of doors in front of her as it slowed…then stopped.

_Let this be my way out._

She walked on purposefully through the middle door.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hermione blinked in surprise.

The room looked as though it had been abandoned for centuries. A thick layer of dust covered the mysterious twinkling objects that lined the tall shelves, and floated about the room when Hermione took several steps through the foot-thick grayish powder on the floor.

"_Lumos_!"

Holding her wand aloft, she cautiously perused the items in the room. There were the fragile looking items on the shelves, haphazardly piled boxes with labels worn by time, and…

She crept closer to the large artifact and shivered slightly from the magical power she felt emanating from it.

_It's dangerous, Hermione._

Her scholarly curiosity overcame her misgivings. The ten foot tall artifact had a frame the color of ice—a gleaming silvery-blue, even under all the dust. The center almost resembled that of a mirror, exempting the fact that it was inky black and glimmered with an unknown source of light. Fascinated, she held her wand closer to the frame to read the engraved runes.

"Somnium quid fortuna…" One of her fingers traced the edge of the runes that followed, faded from the years. What was it? It was Latin, she was certain of that, but what exactly did it me—?

"Hem-hem."

-x-x-x-x-x

Hermione whirled, felt pure terror intensify the thud-thud of her heartbeat.

Twenty wands pointed straight at her, Umbridge's among them, her face distorted by hatred and triumph.

"We've got you now Mudblood! Now come along quietly and perhaps the Interrogation Squad will go easy on you." The horrid toad was positively gloating.

She was well and truly cornered.

"Protego!" she screamed; the shield expanded so rapidly that it knocked about eight Ministry employees flat onto the ground.

She saw Umbridge's hand reach towards her, the stubby, over-ringed fingers grasping towards her arm…

Hermione backed away, wanting to be as far from that ringed hand as possible—and something behind her pulled her in.

The inky center rippled as the last thing she heard was Umbridge's screech of rage.

She felt curiously cold, like after being caught out in an icy rain shower.

Then, nothing but a flash of blindingly white light.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx

Somnium quid fortuna-rough Latin for dreams and fate

A/N: I am now reformatting and fine-tuning _Ambiguity_ to make a better read so I don't mentally cringe every time I try to read my old work. Chapter 7 will be up soon, by the way. By soon, I mean before Christmas. Oh joy!


	2. First Encounter

Disclaimer: Yeah. Y'know the drill.

XxX

Ch.2: First Encounter

The first thing Hermione realized when she woke up was that she had a pounding headache.

Her eyes slowly cracked open to see puffy clouds drifting lazily across a clear, sunlit sky.

_Where in Merlin's name am I?_

She slowly sat up, one hand tightly grasping her wand, the other clutching her reassuringly familiar beaded handbag hidden beneath her robes.

In the distance, a mysterious figure approached. Hermione shaded her eyes with a hand, the bright sunlight obstructing her vision.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hermione smiled.

As the figure drew closer, she felt her worry practically melt away as she saw the familiar head of dark hair. Harry surely, would explain what was going on, why she was lying on a field in the middle of nowhere…

_He must have come back for me just as I was facing Umbridge and her lackeys…_

Now, if her accursed headache just went away, she would be awfully pleased that she wasn't currently being tortured by Umbridge's Interrogation Squad from the depths of hell.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Her heart plummeted from relief to disappointment—an understatement of the year. She gulped slightly, her hand unconsciously curling around the wand in her pocket.

She almost started hyperventilating when the said mystery figure drew close enough for her to see the features of his face.

The guy was definitely not Harry. But why, why then did he look so familiar?

Hermione was jolted out of her musings when he began to speak, lips curled in a condescending expression.

"You, there. Students aren't allowed off-grounds nowadays. I'm afraid I have to report you to the Headmaster."

He then wheeled round and began walking briskly, with the expectant air that she would follow. Seeing as she had few options, Hermione hurriedly stood up, brushed off her robes, and trailed a few feet behind him. Judging from his robes, the teen was a Hogwarts student, a 6th or 7th year with a shiny Head Boy badge pinned to his front.

But how did she end up from being trapped in the Department of Mysteries to napping outside Hogwarts grounds? Well hopefully, as soon as she reached Hogwarts, she would discover some answers.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

They maintained an unbroken silence as he lead her through the heavy wooden doors of the castle, up twisting staircases, down hallways guarded by suits of armor and talking portraits, until he paused in front of the familiar stone gargoyle.

The boy strangely seemed to glance at it with visible dislike, and grudgingly muttered, "Butterbeer."

Hermione frowned slightly at the sudden thought that the new headmaster of Hogwarts might be a Ministry-controlled wizard who would be too happy to hand her over to Umbridge, but at that point, it was too late for her to make an escape. They went up one last set of stairs and into the office.

Hermione saw the dark-haired Head Boy hurry to a frail looking wizard's side; his head inclined respectfully, and he began conversing in a low voice. On top of the desk was a polished gold nameplate—Headmaster Armando Dippet.

And to the right of the desk—her eyes widened with incredulity—was Dumbledore, with the same twinkly blue eyes and moon-shaped spectacles, which was impossible because Dumbledore was dead.

_Right?_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She blinked several times, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Perhaps it was just a ghost--or maybe a portrait. But aside from the auburn beard and lack of wrinkles, the wizard in the deep violet robes was definitely Dumbledore. Before she had time to figure out this puzzle, another voice pulled her back to her present situation.

"Now miss, our Head Boy Tom Riddle has just informed me that you were found sleeping off school grounds even though it is strictly forbidden. Would you mind telling me your reason for this transgression of school rules?"

The elderly wizard's voice was as crackly and dry as autumn leaves. The question only deepened her confusion, as well as her headache. As a result, she blurted out the first thought that sprouted in her mind.

"I was tired sir."

She heard a quiet chuckle from the younger-looking, not-dead Dumbledore on Dippet's right.

"Perhaps I should clarify my question. Why are you on Hogwarts grounds?"

The headmaster stared at her sternly over his desk. Hermione mentally listed possible responses and settled on the safest one.

"I'm here to enroll at Hogwarts, sir."

At her words, the Head Boy seemed to jerk out of his bored stupor, and studied her with slightly more interest.

Headmaster Dippet nodded understandingly.

"I see. Well records must be updated. School rules you know. _Accio parchment_!"

Dippet dipped a large pheasant quill into an ink bottle and scratched on the parchment, muttering the words as he wrote.

"September 4, 1944. Enrollment of new Hogwarts student."

He looked up expectantly.

"Your name, miss?"

"Hermione Granger." Her mouth seemed to be operating on autopilot.

A glint from the corner of her eye distracted her, and her sight landed on the Head Boy badge, engraved with the name 'Tom Riddle'.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Something clicked in her mind.

Headmaster Dippet. 1944. Tom Riddle. The insistent pounding increased against her temples and she gripped the edge of the desk with one hand as she swayed ever-so-slightly from shock.

It hit her. She was stuck in 1944 with a young Lord Voldemort and no way to get back to her own time.

This was not good. Not good at all. In fact, it would be insufficient to state that this was a very, very bad situation.

The headmaster glanced up from his parchment with concern.

"Are you all right, miss?"

The colors of the room dissolved into a blur as the pounding in her head grew even stronger, blocking out all other sensations except for pain.

The last thing she saw was the stone floor rushing up to meet her.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A/N: Just to reassure you guys, this story will get somewhere. I have the point B in mind, the problem is just moving from point A.


	3. Contact

XxX

Ch.3: Contact

He sat, unmoving, still and frozen as a marble statue, the moonlight from the nearby window illuminating his pale features. Every few minutes, his eyes flickered open to rest on the figure dozing quietly on the bed.

He had kept this vigil for Merlin-knows-how-long, perched on the edge of the rickety stool that Madam Eaglewood always used to discourage visitors.

Tom Riddle was slightly irritated that because of the mystery girl, he had to miss another opportunity to remind the other Slytherins who was in charge of the school.

_It certainly wasn't Dippet, the bumbling excuse for a headmaster._

But once she woke up, he would be able to get some answers that he wanted. Tom Riddle simply disliked not knowing everything that went on in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had to know.

There was nothing he could not find out.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hermione couldn't recall the last time she had slept so deeply. When the trio had been planning in number twelve, Grimmauld's Place, they had always talked in sober whispers late into the night, until they all eventually dozed off into an uneasy state of sleep. One of them would always jolt awake on hearing an odd clunk or bump, hands automatically tightening on their wands to face Death Eaters, Snape, or maybe Lord Vol--

At that thought, her eyes snapped open, and Hermione jerked up, desperately hoping that the last few hours were just a nightmare brought on by excessive stress and fatigue.

She had no such luck.

The first thing she saw was the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, sitting at her bedside, eyes closed as if he was sleeping. Or rather, he appeared to be asleep, the same way a panther lounged in the jungle shadows, seemingly relaxed, but ever alert and watchful, muscles poised to pounce on an unsuspecting prey.

The wooden stool scraped on the stone floor as he unexpectedly stood, eyes opened, staring straight into her amber ones.

Hermione was startled by their color. They were not yet the crimson killer eyes that Harry had described after his encounter with Voldemort in the Quibbler interview.

Instead, they were a striking blue—not Dumbledore's sky blue, or Malfoy's cold grey blue—but the deep blue of dusk before moonrise.

_Merlin's beard, is he doing Legilemency?_

She blinked several times, then diverted her eyes to the window over his shoulder, breaking the link between them.

"They told me to stay with you until you were awake. Professor Dumbledore thought questions should wait for tomorrow, but the Headmaster insisted on getting some answers."

His voice had a lilting tenor, and entirely too pleasant for her taste.

"Dippet thought it best if your story was straightened out before allowing you to stay at Hogwarts, what with the war against Grindelwald and all…"

He took several steps towards the Hospital Wing door, when it suddenly opened, and the younger, undead (not-dead), auburn-bearded Dumbledore strolled in.

"Ah! So our mysterious guest is awake! Headmaster Dippet will be arriving shortly." His blue eyes twinkled as Hermione wondered if he could add sparkles to his pupils at whim.

"In the meanwhile, Miss Granger, would you care for a lemon drop?"

He withdrew a small satchel from his violet robes and opened it; the sack was bursting to the seams with the canary-yellow candies.

She took one look at the bag, and inhaled deeply to suppress sobs from escaping her lips.

_The last time I saw you was at your funeral._

"Headmaster Dippet is here sir."

Hermione turned her head to see Riddle offer his rickety seat to Dippet.

"Miss Granger…" Dippet coughed wheezily. "Because of your… er…unfortunate collapse in my office, you were unable to answer the rest of the questions for the enrollment papers. Ahem…I apologize for interrupting your rest but this information is necessary for the school files."

Her mouth opened and closed once like a goldfish. Hermione allowed herself ten seconds to rack her brains before launching into what she hoped was a plausible history.

"Well, sir…" She swallowed, a bit unnerved by the fact that all three pairs of eyes were watching her curiously—even Riddle.

"I was born in England, but shortly after my tenth birthday, my family moved to France. It was my mother's poor health, you see—she was suffering dreadfully from pneumonia. My father hoped the sea air of Southern France would help her recuperate."

_So far, so good._

"I had several private tutors who helped me with my magical education, but I did sit in the O.W.L.S at Beauxbatons."

In a calculated move, she paused, and choked out in a voice drenched with grief, "J-Just last year, my mother…she…passed away, and my father thought it best to return to England. She wished to be buried in her homeland."

Hermione's hand passed over her eyes as though wiping away tears, adding a tremble to her shoulders for emphasis.

"My father thought it best to send me to Hogwarts for my education and safety. So here I am."

She looked up, praying that her story would be accepted.

Dippet looked convinced, Dumbledore fairly sympathetic, and Riddle—well nothing, asides from a slight furrow between his brows.

Dippet patted her shoulder awkwardly and mumbled, "I am…er…deeply sorry for your loss, Miss Granger. We'll discuss your Sorting and classes tomorrow."

With that he left.

" A good night to you then, Miss Granger. Tom, you best hurry up to the Head Dorms. It's nearly past curfew."

Riddle's face clouded over slightly before reverting to an expression of indifference. Dumbledore smiled down on Hermione, then swept towards the exit, Tom Riddle a few steps behind.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

He turned, hand resting on the doorknob; Tom stopped, eyes surveying her with blank disinterest.

"Yes, Miss Granger? Was there something you wished to tell me?"

_Help me._

Her hands clenched the blanket, twisting them in her fingers.

"It's nothing, Professor."

_Dangerous things happen…meddlers of time…_

"Sleep well, Miss Granger. I always find a healthy dose of rest—and a cup of hot coco—most rejuvenating."

Dumbledore and the Head Boy left the Hospital Wing, the door clicking closed with an echo of finality.

She sank her head onto the soft pillow.

_That was my last chance of help._

All she had now was her wand, her wits, and a magic bag of tricks.

_I guess I'm on my own now._

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and Hermione embraced a long, dreamless sleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x


	4. Classification

Hello dear readers! Thanks to everyone who has favorited /reviewed my story….I really appreciate it. Sorry for the really slow updates…Anyways, enjoy chapter four and click on the review button…Pleasepleaseplease…. reviewers win a snuggable teddy bear...a BIG teddy bear…A smiley, ADORABLE teddy bear…Please RxR and have a happy New Year's!

XxXx

"Trust me just this once---you are the opposite of ordinary."

-----Edward, Twilight

XxxxxX

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, then."

With that, the rim of the younger, less-battered Sorting hat slipped over her eyes, blocking out the view of the Headmaster's office. Hermione had woken up early that morning for a quick breakfast of pumpkin juice and toast, before being whisked off to her Headmaster Dippet to arrange her schedule and her Sorting. Dippet had reluctantly agreed to let Hermione take all N.E.W.T.S. classes after she had procured her O.W.L.S. report (which had been altered with a few quick flicks of the wrist to show that she had taken the exam at Beauxbatons).

Unfortunately for her, the Hat was still as snide as it had been fifty years ago (or was it later?).

_Miss Hermione Granger? A time traveler, I see._ It muttered unintelligibly for a few seconds as it somehow rummaged through her mind._ You were placed in Gryffindor before? Not hard to see why…plenty of courage, and brains to boot! What's this though? Ah, you have become quite an accomplished strategist among your friends over the years, have you not? You have a cool, logical, mind my dear, and think before acting rashly… I wonder…_a musing tone crept into its voice_…perhaps Slytherin might fit you as well?_

_No! Not Slytherin! Definitely not!_

Hermione's fingers tightened around the bottom of her wobbly stool, as her heart pulsed a bit faster at the thought of---oh dear Merlin, being stuck literally in a House of snakes and future dark wizards.

_Are you sure? You would be well suited in there…if not Slytherin then, though, I suppose this time, it must be…_

"Ravenclaw!"

XxX

Her shoulders stiffened slightly in shock.

_Not Gryffindor?_

She felt the Hat removed from her head and stumbled off the stool, but prevented an ungraceful fall when her hand caught onto the edge of Dippet's desk, and straightened up.

"Well, Miss Granger, now that you've been Sorted, our Head Boy will escort you to your first class."

She nodded once, and hoped that she wouldn't be too far behind in her classes. Of course Hermione knew it was slightly ridiculous to be worried about academics over Dark Lords with delusions of grandeur, but the feelings of normalcy were reassuring.

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After they had headed down the staircase, he unexpectedly stopped, and turned his shockingly blue—blue not blood-red—eyes on her.

"What is it?" His stare was getting on her nerves. She wasn't a Legilimens for Merlin's sake.

"I need to see your schedule. Unless you would prefer to wander around the staircases of the castle to look for the classrooms yourself?"

Hermione almost snapped back, no, she didn't need _his_ help to navigate through bloody Hogwarts, thank you very much, but she remembered in time that she was supposed to be a new transfer student.

Wordlessly, she held out the parchment that the Headmaster had handed to her that morning. He held it gingerly with his long fingers and as his eyes scanned her courses, a single elegant eyebrow rose higher and higher.

"Quite a heavy load, isn't it?"

"I can handle the work just fine. What is it to you anyways?"

Once again, she was unnerved by his cobalt eyes as he appraised her appearance----everything from her tawny waves of hair to her sensible black loafers.

"It appears, Miss Granger that I shall have the pleasure of your company more often than I like."

"What are you talking about?" Irritation was evident in her voice. Hermione really didn't want to be late to her first class of her seventh year at Hogwarts, even if it was 1944.

Instead of answering, he simply strode down the corridor past a portrait of a knight that yelled something like "Scoundrel! I challenge thee to a duel to the death for daring to trespass on my passageway!"

XxXxXxxx

Hermione glowered at her plate of steak and potatoes.

_Three classes with the future Voldemort! Three! So that was what he was being so mysterious about!_

She picked up her knife and started sawing at the steak furiously. Several first year Ravenclaws cautiously edged away a few inches from her seat after seeing her fuming face.

_Advanced Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts! Now I'll have to put up with a soon-to-be insane mass murderer three times a day. Even Harry only had to face him around once a year…._

She sighed, her anger momentarily forgotten. If her boys were here now, Ron would be stuffing his face with all the food within a ten inch radius and Harry would be conversing easily with their friends about homework and Quidditch.

_This is entirely his fault._

She glanced over at the table of Slytherins. The dark-haired figure had been eating slowly, while his peers communicated with quiet whispers and murmurs, and not a few girls threw admiring looks at the handsome Head Boy.

As if sensing her scrutiny, his head lifted, his sea-blue eyes narrowed.

Hermione quickly averted her gaze to her plate with the half-finished mashed potatoes. She placed down her silverware, stomach churning with fear that she had no idea what she was doing here.

She had lost her appetite.

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It took her several minutes to get used to the blue and bronze color scheme of the room instead of the expected scarlet and gold. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to sleep with her robes on instead of pajamas, at least until she had the time to shop for school supplies and other necessities. Hermione didn't have to wait long before several of her seventh year roommates tumbled in giggling, until they quieted and stared at her curiously.

"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger." She might as well get the introductions out of the way, before the silence became too awkward.

A brunette with light grey eyes smiled tentatively, and shook her hand.

"I'm Sophia Howell. And these two are my friends, Callista and Phoebe."

Two girls---one with flaxen waves and the other with a head of auburn nodded in acknowledgement.

"So you're the new transfer from France?" Phoebe tilted her head, her face inquisitive.

"Yes."

"I also heard you're one of the five girls at Hogwarts who take all N.E.W.T.S. Is that true?" Callista sat on her bed across from her, fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

"Yes." From Callista's incredulous tone, Hermione inferred that it was quite unusual for females to have such a hard course load in this time period.

"You must be quite clever then. I'm only taking two N.E.W.T.S. classes; Advanced Charms and Potions." Sophia had started unbraiding her ash brown hair, a brush in one hand.

"So you get to share classes with the handsome Head Boy. How lucky!" Phoebe gushed, olive green eyes glowing.

"I suppose you plan to be a Healer then? That's the usual route for the few witches who aren't married two or three years after graduation."

"Callista! That's not a very nice thing to say." Sophia's grey eyes radiated disapproval.

"Well, actually I'm not too sure yet. I just enjoy gaining new knowledge." Inwardly though, Hermione was a bit disgruntled by Callista's off-hand remark.

_So only spinster witches take up an occupation? What do they study at Hogwarts for then?_

"If you gain any _new knowledge_ about the great Tom Riddle, I'd love to hear about it." His came from Phoebe, who had flopped onto the top bunk above Callista.

"Phoebe is one of Riddle's many admirers." Sophia's tone was almost apologetic.

Hermione was sorely tempted to say "In fifty years, he loses his nose, has red eyes, death white skin, a freakishly skeletal body, and has a penchant for torture and murder of innocents." Nobody would find him attractive then; except for Bellatrix Black, but then again she was insane.

Instead of replying though, she merely climbed under the covers and whispered "Good night."

Minutes later she heard the other girls even breathing as they slipped into slumber, her mind a mish mash of homework, hidden Horcruxes, and a certain Dark-Lord-to-be.

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In another dormitory adorned by emerald green and silver, a certain wizard with hair as dark as midnight lay awake. His thoughts centered on a certain brown haired, brown eyed Ravenclaw.

_Interesting girl….if she is taking all N.E.W.T.S. she must be quite a powerful witch…she's certainly worth keeping an eye on._

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A/N: Well, I hope that chapter was long enough. Please RxR! I'm trying to make this Tom Riddle a mixture of Artemis Fowl, Itachi Uchiha, Kyoya Ootori, and Raito Yagami. I'm also asking for suggestions for the name of a female House elf who will appear in the story later. Again thanks for the alerts and favorites and reviews and I will try to get chapter 5 typed. Oooh, and cookies for anyone who caught the Hayao Miyazaki reference!


	5. Questions

Hi! Please enjoy this chapter. RxR too! Thanks for all the suggestions for my story. Please excuse the long delay….real life interfered.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except this story. So sad.

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"Hmmm... how do I put this? My first impression of you is... I hate you."

----Hatake Kakashi, Naruto

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"Hermione."

Mmm. The pillow was so soft. Soft and comfy and warm.

"Hermione."

What was that? Where was the bright light coming from?

"Hermione!"

When someone's hand shook her shoulder lightly, she instinctively jumped out of bed, wand drawn from under her pillow.

There was a sudden flash of light.

A fist-sized hole sizzled in the middle of the navy blue bed curtains.

She blinked twice, the bleary cloud of sleep dissipating slowly from her eyes.

Two girls were sprawled on the floor; both faces held the same shocked expressions. They unsteadily scrambled to their feet.

"You should have warned us you weren't a morning person, Hermione,"

Phoebe grumbled as she staggered over to a shelf besides the adjoining bed and fished out a hairbrush. She glanced at the window, and catching sight of her reflection, let out a wail.

"It took me forever to fix my hair this morning!"

"We just thought that you would like to get ready for breakfast. You wouldn't want to be late to your classes on your first day here."

This came from Sophia, who was dusting off her robes, but unlike Phoebe, she didn't look angry.

"Perhaps you were having a nightmare?" she added.

"Er....I was just surprised, that's all." And she had been. Hermione had forgotten for a minute where she was. Or rather, when.

A door creaked open, releasing puffs of steam and a strong, almost sickeningly sweet scent as a blond blur whirled towards a trunk and began rummaging in it.

"Where's my wand?"

"Did something happen, Callista?" Sophia asked, as her fingers nimbly plaited her long hair into a neat braid. Hermione slightly wrinkled her nose at the overpowering smell.

"I spilled half a bottle of the French perfume I received from Papa last Christmas, and I can't get it out of my new robes." Callista looked wild-eyed and frantic, a sharp contrast to the composed and condescending individual Hermione had met last night.

"Perhaps I can help." With a swish of her wand, the pink stain on Callista's robe disappeared, along with the floral scent.

Several more minutes passed before Callista finished thanking Hermione profusely, Phoebe found her shoes, Sophia located her homework, and Hermione made some attempt at taming her bushy head which seemed to have blown up into a giant squirrel's nest overnight.

"Hurry up! Breakfast in the Great Hall is one of the few times we get to see Riddle!"

Phoebe practically shoved all of them down the stairs of the tower, nearly causing a domino effect, which would have faceplanted Hermione on the stone floor below.

It was not the most auspicious start to her supposedly first day at Hogwarts.

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"Eeeeee!"

Hermione sighed as Phoebe grabbed her arm, nearly spilling the glass of orange juice in her hand.

"I think he just looked over here! Did you see that?"

Really, she was tempted to use a good Silencing Charm on that girl.

Sadly, Phoebe wasn't the only one.

At every House table, there were groups of twenty to thirty girls ranging from second-years to seventh years who kept giggling inanely every time they glanced at the middle of the Slytherin table occupied by a certain Head Boy and a small entourage.

Merlin's beard! Why was he so attractive to them?

Granted he was the Head boy, and yes he was tall, and had the whole dark-haired, pale-skinned mysterious look going on, and the Hogwarts robe and tie seemed to flatter him more than they should—

Scowling slightly, she snuck a peek at Riddle to see how he was reacting to all the attentions of nearly every witch in the Great Hall.

Surprisingly, he didn't look too happy about it.

In fact, he looked rather bored.

It was only natural, she reasoned. When you're the next dark wizard and megalomaniac in the world, he would hardly spend time thinking about girls.

There goes her hare-brained idea to shove young Lord Voldemort off the Astronomy Tower. If she did, she would be massacred by a mob of broken-hearted, hormone-crazed females.

Hormone-crazed females armed with wands.

Hermione suppressed a shudder.

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I need to go shopping.

That was a thought that was more Lavender-esque than Hermione; however it was true. Three days had passed; it was difficult attending classes without the proper books and parchment; moreover, her two robes were fraying from continual washing and she badly needed certain amenities which people use daily but rarely think about.

For now though, she was in the library to use books for her Advanced Transfiguration essay and other…research.

She had scanned the shelves twice before she spotted a book that seemed helpful.

"Almost…there…"

She bounced on her heels, her fingers tantalizingly close to the book on the top shelf before gravity pulled her down.

"Oof!"

She finally grabbed it, but ended up sprawled on the floor instead of landing on her feet.

"Normally, a witch would use a wand."

She stood instantly and turned.

Sitting comfortably at one of the library tables was a boy with thick rectangular-rimmed spectacles and a stack of books up from the ground to his elbow.

"I needed it for some light reading." She struggled to pack the thick book into a bag that Sophia had lent to her.

"Through the Streams of the Universe? Unusual choice for some light reading."

"Who are you to—?" She glared at him, shocked to see cobalt blue eyes glinting behind the glasses under the head of dark, neatly-groomed hair.

Apparently, Riddle wore glasses.

Hermione just made a fool of herself in front of Tom-demented-Dark-Lord-Riddle. Not the best footing on which to vanquish a hated enemy.

Strange. It was surreal and strange; Tom Riddle and glasses reminded her painfully again of Harry and the mission that now burdened her.

_Destroy any Horcruxes you find. Return home to your own time._

Both seemingly impossible to accomplish.

She turned on a heel, leaving in a hurry.

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She was annoying, he decided.

Annoying because she seemed to go out of her way to avoid him.

Why? Everyone else drew nearer to Head Boy Riddle, with his aura of power like moths to a flame.

Curiouser and curiouser.

What made her different from the crowds of silly girls that swooned at his feet with a single word?

She was a mystery then. A puzzle to while away his time in between his outside research and academic work.

A challenge.

He could not—would not lose.

"Hermione Granger," he murmured, tasting her name. "You cannot hide anything from me."

He took off his glasses and let the useless book he was skimming fall off his lap with a quiet thud.

This would certainly be amusing.

Perhaps it was time to make his tools prove their worth.

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Hermione closed the book and sighed in exasperation.

She was her year's cleverest witch! She should be able to glean useful information from a single page at a glance.

Unfortunately, the author of the thick hardcover she had lugged from the library had a tendency to be verbose and droning in tone, not unlike Professor Binns.

All she had learned about time travel from Warlock P. Sherman was that it was extremely dangerous and mostly theoretical in practice.

All that information was virtually useless to her current predicament.

Maybe if she was lucky, a weekend excursion to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley would yield better information.

She sighed again into her pillow.

She still needed to ask permission for such a trip from rule-abiding Headmaster Dippet.

She really needed to plan out this whole saving-the-world-thing a lot better.

Hopefully, Harry and Ron were doing much better in their time.

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Oh it was a jolly life, traipsing around the wilderness, camping outdoors, on the lam from the Ministry.

It was a disaster.

The still had only found one Horucrux and both boys were getting hungrier and hungrier after weeks of living on berries and nuts.

"Ron! You do not catch a fish by jabbing a wand through its eyeball!"

"Harry, unless you want to become The-Boy-who-Starved-to-Death don't be a girl and help me put this into the pot!"

"Erm. When you cook it, I don't think it's supposed to go on fire like that, mate."

"Aaah! My robe! Put it out! Put it out!"

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There you go. Now RxR. Please. I know it's not that long, but I was pressed for time. My deepest apologies.

Next chapter will feature shopping. Yay!


	6. Shopping

Hi there! Sorry for the long wait…my laptop kind of crashed around a month ago and I lost a bunch of documents and other research for this story and my other fanfiction. Thank you all for being so patient, and please review! RxR!

In other news, for those of you who are curious why I was inspired to give Tom Riddle glasses---well, it sort of underlies the Harry Potter-Voldemort connection---and guys with shiny glasses are just cooler. For reference, there is a title page thing in chapter 21 of Vampire Knight that shows Zero Kiryu reading a book with glasses---he still somehow pulls off that dark, broody air which fans adore him for.

Disclaimer: I wish I was a famous billionaire best-selling author. I read on TV Tropes that disclaimers are pretty much useless nowadays anyways.

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"A smile is the best way to get oneself out of a tight spot, even if it is a fake one. Surprisingly enough, everyone takes it at face value. I read that in a book."

---Sai, Naruto Shippuden

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"WHAT?"

Headmaster Dippet frowned severely and several portraits winced at her tone.

Hermione belatedly realized that shrieking at the headmaster would do little good to improve her situation.

She made an attempt to calm herself.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"No disrespect intended, sir. But please, why himof all people?"

"Now Miss Granger, this is merely school policy. It's for your own safety and in your best interest if you wish to be allowed this excursion."

She felt her nails digging into the palm of her wand hand, and her voice rose about an octave higher with desperation.

"Sir, what if I asked Sophia to accompany me? Or Phoebe?"

"Miss Granger, it is not proper for two young ladies to go gadding about London, especially in these uncertain times. I'm sure your escort will provide the security this trip requires." Disapproval mingled with shock at her suggestion was evident in his words.

A new voice spoke, brimming with confidence and suffused with charm.

"I'll protect her with my life, if necessary, sir."

He actually sounded like he meant his words.

Hermione's glare was white-hot as lightning. If only looks could kill, or at least magically levitate the recipient into the lake with a ravenous giant squid. Was Dippet blind? The Head Boy's smile had no more sincerity in it than a certain poltergeist when promising to spare you from his dreaded ink-filled water balloons if you hopped on one foot squawking like a chicken for his amusement before he allowed access to a hallway that was the quickest way to Transfiguration.

"I think it won't have to come to that, Tom." The Headmaster's voice had shifted to a more grandfatherly tone.

"Now, Miss Granger, Riddle, both of you better hurry along to your dorms before curfew."

It was a clear dismissal from his office.

Drat. Now she was stuck on a shopping trip with a psychotic wizard. He could dispose of her quietly in a dark alley if he chose to do so and no one would ever suspect him capable of committing such a horrendous crime.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that there was probably someone up there laughing at her misfortune.

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"That'll be five Galleons and three Sickles, miss."

Hermione dug around her beaded purse before procuring the needed coins and tucked the brown package under her right arm. The shop assistant had been quite helpful and efficient in outfitting her with the school robes she had required, although there hadn't been much change in the style from her Hogwarts day; the hem was a bit longer and the fabric was of a rougher quality. The assistant—Sally Weaver wasn't it?—was rather chatty when taking her measurements; she seemed quite young, with light brown hair neatly pinned into a bun, and a slender build. In fact, she appeared to be not much older than Hermione herself—nineteen or twenty years of age.

As Hermione turned towards the door, laden down with another purchase in her hands, Weaver peered through a window near the front of the shop, and smiled slightly.

"Oh my…Is that handsome young man standing outside your beau, dear?"

"Ah!" With one hand on the door opened halfway, Hermione's other hand fumbled for several packages that had dropped from her arms when her grip on them had slipped.

When she had glanced outside at Sally's words, she only saw the familiar tall, dark-haired figure of her escort. His face was nonchalant, the same expression he had that morning when they both silently rode the horseless carriage to London, and traversed the Apothecary and Flourish and Blotts.

He was the one person standing quietly among the bustling crowds weaving around him, a rushing river passing an unmovable stone in its path. Realization crept over her thoughts slowly, like clouds drifting across a summer sky.

Oh. Sally had meant if she and Riddle were engaged.

"No! Definitely not!" fumed Hermione, her mind repelled by the very idea.

"I see," Sally looked a bit taken aback by the vehemence in her reply. "Well, he's quite good-looking, that's all."

She decided not to dignify such a baseless statement with an answer and knelt on the pebbled ground. Instead, she focused on picking up the rest of the packages that had scattered across the floor near the entrance of Madam Malkin's.

"One...more…left…" Her left arm juggled three heavy bundles as she reached for one package inches from her fingertips. A loose curl of chestnut fell over her right eye, clinging to her cheek.

Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the parcel, another hand deftly snatched it up.

"Thank…" The words fled from her mouth as she took in a swift intake of breath. A great mass of dark brown hair momentarily whirled willy-nilly in the air as Hermione scrambled to her feet at the sight of her mysterious helper.

Night-black hair and indifferent eyes the blue shade of dusk; his lip curled into an irritated look.

She turned away from his line of sight to focus on rearranging the bundles in her hands.

"Really, if you insist on making this trip such a burden to me, at least refrain from dawdling between the shops." He stacked the brown packet on top of the ones that she held between her arms precariously, like a mountain of rectangular blocks that could tumble at any moment.

"At this rate, it is unlikely we will be able to return to Hogwarts by sundown."

_Fine. So he thinks I'm too slow; if that's the way he sees it…_

Hermione unexpectedly smiled. Her demeanor had changed suddenly from frazzled to cheerful.

"Thanks for your help, Tom."

His lips twitched into something resembling a snarl at her words, than slipped back into his disinterested expression in a mere second.

"And Ms. Weaver, I really appreciate your assistance in helping me select my robes."

"Please come back anytime!" Sally responded; a trio of small bells clanged softly as the door of Madame Malkin's swung shut.

Riddle's jaw tightened a fraction when he realized that his charge had rushed out of the shop without waiting for him.

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"How dare he call me slow and burdensome." Hermione muttered as she swept through the streets at a whirlwind's pace, despite the heavy school supplies in her arms. "I didn't ask him to escort me; I'm perfectly capable of carrying out a simple shopping trip on my own."

She glanced down the cobbled path between several more run-down shop buildings and continued walking.

"We were supposed to leave on the Knight Bus in front of the Leaky Cauldron at 5'o'clock." Her arms were beginning to ache from the weight of her purchases. The satisfaction from ditching Riddle was beginning to wear off. She almost found herself wishing that he had accompanied her, if only to relieve her from carrying her packages herself.

_The Leaky Cauldron, the Leaky Cauldron…it shouldn't be far from here…but I don't recognize any of these shops. Is this an area marked for renovation? All the buildings are marred with flaking paint and cracked windows._

_This means that I exited down the wrong direction from Madam Malkin's!_

"Oh!" In her distress, Hermione had collided with something solid and tall, which resulted in her dropping all her packages yet again. Most likely it was another visitor to Diagon Alley out for a window-shopping stroll.

"I'm sorry!" Maybe she should just levitate her supplies behind her; her right hand closed around her wand in her pocket.

"So what do we have here?"

She looked up; in front of her were a wizard with longish dull copper ponytail and two others behind him with eerily similar grey eyes and dark hair; twins, perhaps?

"It's rather unusual…"

"For a witch…"

"To be wandering around…"

"By herself…"

"Especially…"

"In these times…"

"Ah, these are my mates, John and Jeremy. You may call me Henry."

"I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I'm in hurry…" A flick and the brown packages all flew into her arms. Hermione turned on her heel, hoping that the Knight Bus hadn't departed yet.

"Well, what's the rush?" Henry had circled fluidly around and blocked her path towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Surely, a lovely lady like yourself wouldn't mind joining us for a pint of firewhisky." He smiled, showing a glimpse of a pointy canine tooth.

"It's only polite after such a rude encounter." He actually dared to place his hand on her left arm.

"No thanks, I'm underage. Now get out of my way before I curse you."

Henry chuckled, as did the twins, in an echoic manner.

"A Hogwarts student, eh? Witches never learn anything useful there, besides household cleaning charms and other basic—Aaagh!"

He began slapping the sleeve of his robe, which, incidentally was smoking and charred with flames.

"I warned you," the trio seemed to be caught by surprise at the venom in her voice and unconsciously took a cautious step backwards simultaneously, "to let me pass!"

"Tarantallegra!"

Hermione twirled around the jet of blue aimed at her legs and swished her wand; one of the twins' arms and legs snapped together and he fell to the ground, his wand loitering uselessly a foot away.

_Protego._

Two other beams of light—one red, one gold—deflected away from a three foot radius around her.

She let her shield down for a second; the second twin staggered with a dazed expression to collapse next to his brother.

_Langlock._

The last wizard with the ponytail gestured wildly with his wand, but to no avail.

She allowed herself to flash one smug smile behind her before turning to walk away.

"Ow!"

She felt a hand roughly jerk back her hair, and a slim wand pointed directly over her heart.

In her line of vision, she caught a peek of rusted copper, and heard a few garbled and gagging noises for several pulses of time.

"You…you little…" he coughed, trying to shake off the effects of her last spell.

Adrenaline still coursed through her blood, a potent mix of anger that was eventually cooling to fear.

She did the only thing she could in such a situation.

Her lips curved into an arrogant grin.

"How cowardly. Are you too afraid to face me straight on in a duel?"

_Hide your fear. Distract him._

It wasn't working. She still felt her pulse flitting madly at the side of her throat.

"I suggest you release the girl, if you value your skin."

Through the corner of her eye, she saw the tip of a wand hovering over the jugular vein of Henry's neck.

She never thought that she would feel such relief at the sound of that infuriatingly confident voice.

Henry's eyes flickered from the chestnut-haired witch to the cool smile of the youth with the dark eyes that glittered momentarily with red. The kind of smile that hinted at fearlessness necessary for carrying out his threat.

He let out a shrill yelp as another foot suddenly stomped heavily on his.

"That won't be necessary, Riddle."

The three wizards scrambled eager to get away from the troublesome girl and her escort.

The wizard with glossy, raven-black hair strode in front of the girl.

"We should leave. It'll be my neck that's cut if you run into any more difficulties."

She walked next to him in silence all the way to the Leaky Cauldron.

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They reached the castle just as the other students were scurrying towards their dorms before curfew passed.

They stopped in a mostly deserted corridor.

"You know, Tom," it gave her another bubble of satisfaction to see a flash of anger in his eyes, "playing the hero doesn't suit you."

Her hands adjusted their grip around the fruit of her excursion.

"But I suppose I should thank you anyways."

Was that the slightest hint of irony in her tone, a drop of mockery in her brown eyes?

He watched her slip away into the darkness.

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Please RxR!

Sorry again for the slow updates.

BTW does anyone know how old Argus Filch is supposed to be? I have a vague idea for him in this story.

P.S. I think I'm reading to many shojou mangas.


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